Summer's Song

by Lindi Peterson

  I don’t know how the world thinks anyone with camera crews and paparazzi following them around twenty-four hours a day would have any secrets.

  But apparently Preview Publishing did.

  Oh, and there is George. The agent.

  And my sister managed to put it all on paper somehow. She swears she sat at the computer and typed it all herself, but I still don’t see that happening. That would take a measure of discipline that I haven’t seen in her, ever.

  “Come on,” Levi says. “Quit stalling, and hand it over.”

  The legal pad in my hands feels like a lead weight. It’s only paper. But the words on this paper have helped change my life. Wait. Not my life. My outlook on life. If it wasn’t for this book coming out, I would never be showing this to Levi.

  Never.

  “Summer. It’s Monday. Your son will be here at the end of the week. You have an interview Wednesday afternoon. If you want to get anything at all done on this CD, we need to get to work.”

  My guitar sits in its stand. “These words are different from what I’ve sung before.”

  “Let me see the legal pad.”

  “Just so you know I don’t think Feline is going to be crazy about this project if we use the words on this pad.”

  Levi walks over to me. I back up a couple of steps. He takes another step toward me. I start to back up again. I know I need to hand the lyrics over to him, but it isn’t easy.

  Beside, his presence ignites wild feelings in my heart. And in other parts. Especially since last night. Learning who he is and what he’s been through has brought a certain vulnerability to him that wasn’t there before.

  I’ve never spent this much time with any guy who I haven’t seen naked. Honestly. I have never been emotionally intimate with a man that I haven’t been physically intimate with.

  Facts are facts. I want to touch Levi. The intertwining of fingers yesterday and the closeness we shared last night left me yearning for more. But not the lets-just-hop-in-the-sack kind of more. I wonder what his arms would feel like encircling my body. How would my fingers feel brushing the back of his neck, sifting through his dark, silky (maybe) hair? Would his cheek feel soft if it gently rubbed against mine?

  And his lips. My bet is they are rose-petal soft, yet his kiss would be demanding in a hero-like sort of way. It’s all I can do not to take my finger and trace his lips with the tip of it.

  This is what it is like to feel. Or in my case, not feeling, but wanting to.

  These unknown things are a mystery to me. The old Summer would not hesitate. She would take two or three steps toward Levi, wrap her arms around him, and kiss him without reservation.

  I smile wondering how Levi would react.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks.

  I shake my head. I can’t keep thinking this way about him. “Nothing’s funny. This is all very confusing.”

  Let him think I’m talking about the songs. I hand over the legal pad.

  “Thank you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Moments seem like eternity as he flips the pages.

  “This is incredible.”

  “What is?” I ask.

  “This.” He holds the legal pad in the air. “You wrote these lyrics?”

  I try real hard to check the anger that wants to portray itself in my tone as I speak. “Yes. Something amazing about that?”

  “Very. Why are we wasting time? Let’s get to work.”

  “Levi, I wanted to show the songs to you, but I’m not sure I can sing them on a CD.”

  “You can and will.”

  “Sure, Coleman. Whatever you say.”

  His body language, his face, his whole demeanor stiffens. “What did you call me?”

  Oops. Wrong words. Definitely wrong. I wish I could take them back. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t ever call me that man’s name again. I am nothing like him.”

  No kidding. I never wanted to kiss Coleman. “I know. But he pushes me to do things I don’t want to do, and when you said ‘you can and will,’ well, you know …”

  “There is a difference. The things he wants you to do aren’t beneficial to anyone but him.”

  “I know. And I really don’t want to do this interview on Wednesday, but he set it all up without asking. If I don’t do it, it’ll look like I’m acting the way I used to act without regard to anyone but myself.”

  Levi picks up his guitar and sits on one of the stools. He’s wearing dark jeans and a navy tee with a green hoodie that’s unzipped. He’s also wearing those black high-tops. If someone had told me a year ago I’d be crazy about a guy who wears high-tops, I would have said they were crazy.

  “You can work the interview to your advantage,” he says, nodding his head toward the stool next to him.

  “How?” I walk over to pick up my guitar.

  “You’ll see. Let’s work on this.” He points to the legal pad. “Then we’ll talk about the interview. They kind of go hand in hand.”

  “Somehow I don’t think I’m going to like your idea.”

  “You shouldn’t jump to bad conclusions, Summer. Come on over here and sit down. We need to get started.”

  I look at him.

  “Please?”

  I smile. Once again we’re sitting really close to each other. A proximity I’m becoming used to with Levi. I’m surprised how comfortable I am around him most of the time.

  A music stand sits in front of us. He has the legal pad flipped to a particular set of words. “These lyrics are really good. We’re starting here. Do you have any idea regarding the music? The beat? Fast, slow. Crazy, sane?”

  “You’re crazy. I’m sane.”

  His expression is serious. “Not. Think. What do you see for this song?”

  I glance at the words then close my eyes. “I see sunshine, nature. Soft breezes, summer days?”

  He nods his head. “Okay. You’re seeing warmth. Calmness. That’s all good.”

  I strum the guitar hard. He looks at me with a quizzical look.

  “I’m seeing a big, fat, rejection from Feline Records if I include that song on a proposed record.”

  Levi shakes his head. “Quit thinking negatively. You’ve got the main chorus written like this:

  He is good, better than I’ve ever known

  better than I deserve, I know

  He is good.

  Good for me, true

  too good to be true

  not only good for me

  but good for you.”

  “Okay,” I reply. Shivers run up my arms contrasting with the heat that I know is spreading across my face. Hearing Levi speak words that I’ve written seems to defy the universe somehow.

  “Let’s put some music to it.”

  Two hours pass as we strum chords and pick a melody. Levi jots down musical notes. I envy his talent, his insight. He’s giving his all to help me. And the most amazing part is he doesn’t expect anything in return.

  “What do you think?” he asks. “Let’s try it one more time.”

  He picks the melody while I strum chords. Our voices, hearts and souls mingle as the praise of the song resounds throughout the studio. As we finish, there’s a silence in the air like I’ve never experienced. I can’t describe it except to say it’s like a loud silence. A something in the air that lets me know there is an acceptance in this room. Like the acceptance of a gift, a reward, like I am the giver and someone else the recipient. An unseen Someone else. The whole atmosphere brings tears to my eyes.

  What is wrong with me?

  “You’re feeling the song,” Levi says as I dab my index finger at the corner of my eye.

  “And other people are going to feel it to.” He smiles. “I promise.”

  I can’t respond. I would choke on words at this moment. The words of the song I wrote go through my head at ninety miles an hour.

  Too good to be true.

  Chapter Ten

  I reach down, pull a piece of grass and rub i
t between my fingers. “I can’t do what you’re suggesting. Coleman will kill me.”

  He would kill me if he knew I was at the park with Levi while I’m supposed to be working. The sun is hiding behind gray clouds. Levi swears it’s not going to rain, but I’m not so sure. It just feels good to be outside after hours in Skeet’s studio.

  We are on a sitting on a bench on the outskirts of the park. The bench faces the square in town. We’re not really people watching, although Levi seems to be watching me. I’m sitting sort of sideways next to him. No body parts touching. After last night I’m trying to keep my physical distance. A hard task since Levi is so physical.

  He insisted on his little pinky hold as we left the fudge shop to walk to the park. It’s almost like he’s pulling back a little. He didn’t mind holding my hand a couple of days ago.

  But something’s changed.

  “Coleman’s job is to represent you. If you change your image during your career, he has to adjust.”

  I can’t see Levi’s expression as he’s speaking because his attention is on the white bag holding our fudge, so I try hard to envision Coleman’s reaction if I tell him I’m writing, singing and playing Levi’s type of music.

  Yeah.

  I can’t even imagine.

  “Here. This will help the mind.” Levi hands me a piece of fudge. I take a bite, marveling at the sweetness and smoothness. It’s a combination that would be hard to duplicate. Except I’m thinking this is how Levi’s kisses would be. Something I would want to cherish, savor and never want to end.

  You know, I might just have to kiss him. Just so I will know. Really, could his kisses live up to the unrealistic sensations I have conjured up? I hardly think so. At least if I were to do it then my mind wouldn’t keep going astray to a place that probably doesn’t exist.

  “Summer, are you okay? You’re looking lost.”

  I’m lost all right. Lost in the fantasy of your kiss.

  “I’m not lost. I’m considering the goodness of this fudge then contrasting Coleman to it.” There. Now I’m sure I’ll quit thinking about kissing Levi.

  Levi crushes the empty bag into a ball. “Why can’t you understand he works for you?”

  “For the same reason you can’t understand the dynamics of our relationship. What should be isn’t the way it is.”

  “Whoa. Talk so this Texan can understand.”

  I clasp my hands together. “I can’t change things.”

  He points his index finger toward me. “That I can understand, and no you can’t change things. Not alone.”

  Dropping my gaze for a moment I debate speaking the next words. But I do because Levi needs to know the truth. “Maybe I don’t want things to change.”

  Levi sits straighter. “What do you mean?”

  My right hand rubs the back of my neck. “It’s easier to go along. It’s easier not to make waves. I need to do this CD, be finished with it, end my contract, then go away.”

  Surely he can understand. The songs we worked on together really sounded good, but my current fan base isn’t going to like them. Not at all. If I have a hard time handling the fact that my sister has written a tell-all book, how am I going to stand firm against the masses when they revolt upon hearing my songs?

  “You mean make a CD with the same type of songs you were doing? You don’t want to use the material we worked on this afternoon?”

  His puzzled expression isn’t surprising to me. My heart is in the same boat.

  Puzzled.

  “Look. I really appreciate your help today. I can’t explain what you’ve taught me. But I only have one more project with Feline. One. And if I can skate through it, they’ll be happy, the fans will be happy, Coleman will be happy. Then maybe, just maybe, they’ll all leave me alone.”

  “Tell me about the fudge,” he says.

  “What?” I ask, completely confused.

  “The fudge. What happens when you put a bite of it in your mouth?”

  Does he really want to hear about how I think it might compare to his kisses? Not. Can he possibly know what I’m thinking? Not. So what is he doing?

  “Come on, Summer. Don’t be shy. Talk to me.”

  “I have no idea where you’re going with this, but I’ll go with you. The fudge. Let’s see. When I take that first bite, it’s like silk has exploded in my mouth. It’s a natural, smooth, sweet sensation that’s unlike anything else.” I dare not close my eyes, for I don’t want to miss seeing Levi’s reaction to my explanation.

  He nods his head as if he’s agreeing with me. “Nice description. Now, part two. How does it taste when you put a piece of cardboard in your mouth?”

  “Cardboard? I’ve never put cardboard in my mouth.”

  “Really? Why not?”

  “Levi. What are you getting at?”

  He’s got that serious look about him again. For some reason I equate his serious look to not being happy with me. It’s probably insane, but I can’t help it.

  “Okay. Since you’ve never eaten cardboard, tell me what you think it would taste like.”

  “Tasteless. Hard. Like cardboard.”

  He now decides to crook his little finger onto mine. His deep brown eyes refuse to look anywhere but right at me.

  “So, are you fudge, or are you cardboard?” He practically whispers the question.

  In fact I’m not sure I hear him correctly. “You have totally lost me. Did you ask me if I’m fudge or cardboard?”

  He inches closer to me. My mind is reeling, my heart is pumping fast and my body is turning to jelly. I’m a total mess. He’s so close now when he still speaks in his whispered tone I can hear him plainly.

  “When people hear a Summer Sinclair song, do they hear fudge or cardboard?”

  My mind stops reeling, my heart almost goes into reverse, and that jellied feeling has hardened. “Levi. What are you doing to me?”

  “How can they hear fudge if you’re singing cardboard?”

  “Levi, this is incomparable.” I have never known anyone who would compare and contrast cardboard and fudge.

  “No, it’s not.”

  I want him to scoot away. I want to unhook my pinky from his. I want his eyes to say ‘stop right there’ instead of saying ‘come closer. See into my soul.’ I want him to stop challenging me. “My fans, they don’t care about fudge and cardboard.”

  “I’m glad to hear you think so highly of the people who have made you a trillionaire.”

  “I’m not a trillionaire, but really, I don’t think they care. You see, you’re talking hearing, audio. People today are visual. They see what they want to see. I can be up on the stage singing about God in heaven, and they’ll hear what they want to hear.”

  “Okay, so what’s the problem? Write what you want, sing it.”

  I shake my head at his total lack of understanding. “You don’t get it. I’ll be up on stage, dressed in who knows what or not dressed in much of anything. My own dance moves make me blush. I don’t think God is going to be a big fan.”

  He lays his hand on my knee. I’m so glad I wore my jeans. His hand on my flesh would probably set me on fire.

  “You need to be true to who you are, Summer. Not what you think people want you to be.”

  “Easy to say, Christian singer star.”

  “Being a Christian singer isn’t always easy to live up to, either. In fact, it’s a hard task. Always expected to ‘do the right things.’ It’s not so cool when you make a mistake, and the world knows it.”

  He’s turned his head. Like he sees something on the horizon, far beyond where we’re sitting. I wonder what he’s thinking about. Where does his mind go when it wanders away from our conversation? His brother? Dad? The life he lived as a kid?

  “Just the opposite of me. When I mess up, it’s yippee! We have news for tonight. I guess it’s not a cause of celebration for you, huh?”

  “Not exactly.”

  All this talk of messing up really has my curiosity piqued. “So what kin
d of mistakes have you made? Not your dad’s mistakes, your mistakes.”

  “Summer, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you and why you would choose to be cardboard when fudge is within your reach.”

  I lay my free hand on top of his before I lock gazes with him. “Like I said, it’s easier.”

  “And I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. My whole point is this. When Meghan Cascade comes, I think you should lay it all out. How you’ve changed, how you’ve found a more fulfilled life. How you’ve met people, Skeet I’m talking about, who have showed you what it’s really like to live. You have to know you will be an inspiration for a lot of people.”

  “Meghan will call me a fake and a phony. On television in front of everyone. She may seem like ‘the sweetheart talk show host,’ but she’s not.”

  “Let her believe what she wants to. Not everyone is going to agree with her. And besides, God knows your heart. He knows what kind of person you are inside.”

  “It’s really scary, Levi.” My words are carried to him on a breeze, because they come out so softly it’s the only possible way he can hear me.

  He grips my pinky a little tighter. “I like fudge a whole lot more than I like cardboard.”

  The feel of his breath sends shivers down me, while his words send a hammer to my heart. I could fall crazy in love with this guy.

  But the reality is he will never fall in love with me.

  And while it makes my heart a little sad, I understand the situation. At least now, being sober and clean, reality doesn’t escape me. I don’t have any more illusions. I don’t pretend things will change when they can’t anymore.

  “O.M.G!”

  Both Levi and I look up at the sound of the really loud voice. And who is standing in front of us?

  Valentine.

  And is she ever dressed for town. She’s wearing the same denim skirt she wore yesterday, only today she has pastel colored flowered leggings on, turquoise blue peek-a-boo pumps and a turquoise halter. She’s also adorned with turquoise and silver jewelry. Her earrings are so big I’m wondering how her ears are still attached to her head.